


Prince Charming Doesn't live here

by hobbeshalftail3469



Category: Cormoran Strike Series - Robert Galbraith, Strike (TV 2017)
Genre: Blazing rows do bring out the truth!, Cormoran is a great detective, F/M, It starts as a row, Robin finally tells Cormoran what she wants, Setting her up with a client was a really dumbass thing to do!, but he really is blind when it comes to Robin!, kissing......YAY!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:35:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22684828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hobbeshalftail3469/pseuds/hobbeshalftail3469
Summary: Written specifically for this prompt.A blazing row brings out some hidden feelings and both Robin and Cormoran finally admit their feelings for each other.A fabulous kiss....and the hint at more!
Relationships: Robin Ellacott/Cormoran Strike
Comments: 10
Kudos: 50
Collections: Love Letters: A Cormoran Strike Valentine's Day Fest





	Prince Charming Doesn't live here

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [StrikeLoveLetters](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/StrikeLoveLetters) collection. 



> **Prompt:**
> 
> Prince Charming Doesn’t Live Here

Robin’s breath was coming hard and fast.  
She was sure Strike would be able to hear her heart beat.

They’d argued in the car on the way back from a client lunch; an unusual one where they had both been involved and after slamming the passenger side door she had pounded up the stairs ignoring Strike’s pleas for her to “Can we just stop and talk about this?”

He’d followed her into the office, panting and with a shimmer of sweat across his brow.  
She was standing, arms folded across her chest staring at the kitchen shelf as she’d realised that she had no desire to make Strike a mug of tea, but had found herself at the sink and now that he was behind her she was somewhat trapped.  
She could sense him hovering….and could also tell without looking that he was glaring at her, and would probably be shaking his head at her refusal to face him and discuss what had gone on.

“ROBIN!” he stated forcefully, bristling with unconcealed anger. 

He was angry….but more with himself for having not seen the signs in his partner.

“I was joking!....I can see now it wasn’t a very good joke….I’m sorry,” he stated, quieter but with no less passion in his voice.  
If only she’d turn around she’d see how his face was plastered with regret and sorrow.

Still facing the sink Robin’s shoulders moved up and down in time with her attempts to curtail the anger she was holding in.

“I put my foot in it….which for me is pretty catastrophic,” he added.

His attempt at humour was even more galling to Robin and behind her he winced when her head shook visibly and her flat palms appeared on the work surface.

“That was a really unhelpful and tactless thing to say….back in the restaurant,” she finally stated, still staring away from Strike.  
The fact that she’d spoken to him, albeit without facing him made him feel slightly better.  
He’d clearly fucked things up, at least if she was mad at him he could say he was sorry and try to fix things between them.

Shit….things had been going really well between them recently.

Last Friday night at the pub he’d almost thrown caution to the wind and said something…..something along the lines of, ‘Robin I think about you day and night and you are absolutely everything to me, will you please consider going out with me?’

Instead, he’d told the client, today, when he’d asked, that she was indeed single and that he thought she’d be interested in a date….so long as the case was closed!  
And when he’d gone for a cigarette the client had indeed asked her out…..and told her that Strike had ‘greased the path’ when she outlined her concerns about conflict of interests.

Things between her and Strike had been going well….at least she thought they had.  
In The Tottenham last Friday there had been a few moments when she’d actually considered coming out and saying something…..just bluntly asking him, ‘Are you ever going to consider asking me out?’

And her shock at their client’s request had been nothing compared to her confusion at the fact that she’d clearly got her business partner’s interests so badly wrong.

“I’m so sorry……I just thought….he’s young and good looking and successful….you know….”

Robin now turned to face him, face like thunder, grey-blue eyes like swirling storm clouds.

“So what? You thought Robin needs a Prince Charming to sweep her off her feet, he’ll do……”

Strike’s brow furrowed in a mixture of confusion and embarrassment; maybe there had been a little of that going on….and maybe a small part of him had thought that if she was involved with someone else – someone whole, and handsome and seemingly sane – maybe, just maybe it would put paid to his own ridiculous fantasies.

He rasped his splayed palm across his stubbled chin and round to the nape of his neck, freeing a few slightly damp curls from his collar.  
“Look! For fuck’s sake……Prince Charming doesn’t live here!” he pointed directly at his own sternum, “Does he?! I thought…….you just……..deserve….”

“CORMORAN! For fuck’s sake! Who the fuck says I want Prince Charming? I’ve had him! Turns out he was a prize knobhead who as far as I’m concerned can shove his crown up his own arse!” and she finally tried to meet Strike’s gaze.  
His eyes looked soft…..and slightly impressed!

“Point taken!” he smirked. “So….if you don’t want Prince Charming, what do you want?” he asked, allowing the tiniest glimmer of hope to flicker in his chest.

Robin slumped back, resting against the sink unit, arms still folded around her waist, her hands gripping her own waistband.

“I don’t want or need a Prince that’s for sure. Because….I don’t have any desire to be treated like a bloody princess. I don’t want someone putting me on a pedestal, or fussing around me, or cossetting me, wrapping me in cotton wool. I just want to be me….so I guess that’s what I want,” she said calmly, her lips resting in her now familiar ‘I’ve finished my say, now it’s your turn’ position.  
By way of response Strike perched himself against the side of her desk and nodded. 

“So? I’m guessing you also want me to stay out of your love life…..although, I seriously just thought he at least seemed quite nice and normal….and…..well….”

“Boring?” she quipped, her tone brusque, but with a definite twinkle of….something behind her gaze.

“No! Not boring….just…..OH, fucking hell! I don’t know what I was thinking, or what you want!” his arms gave an almost helpless shrug.

“Cormoran!” she murmured, exhaling with a shaky stutter, “I want…..I want you. I want this massive, one-legged, grumpy arse who eats too many biscuits and drinks way too much beer….and oversleeps far too often for it to be an accident,” and at this point she took a step towards where he remained, pressing himself against the reassuring solidity of the wooden desk; half afraid that if he attempted to move in any way the bubble of certain hallucination would burst around them both.

But she continued speaking, “I want the person who believes in me….and who shouts at me when I’m in the wrong, and who trusts me….and who has the most reassuring hands,” she reached out to stroke her fingertip across Strike’s right hand resting against the edge of her desk.  
Strike twitched against her touch and his eyes drifted down to observe as he allowed his fingers to lace into hers; his thumb rubbing an invisible balm across her knuckles.

“You do know that you are breathtakingly beautiful don’t you….and that it is a daily struggle to keep myself from pulling you across my desk and kissing the shit out of you…..and that it’s becoming a massive, massive problem,” he tightened his grip on her hand and pulled her the last foot or so towards him, his slightly seated position making them the same height.  
His other hand slid around her waist and he breathed deeply as her right hand moved along his arm, pressing and squeezing his muscular shoulder beneath his jacket.

“I don’t think this….between us…I don’t think it will be a mistake,” she stated, “Because we both want it.”

“Well, I think I know you well enough not to argue with you when you’ve got your mind set on something,” he smiled sheepishly.  
Robin nodded and inched her face fractionally closer to his softly parted and slightly off centred lips.

In the end it took the merest movement from each of them to join them together.

Robin was shocked at the tenderness in Cormoran’s mouth, sucking each lip softly in turn, teasing her lips with tantalising flicks of his tongue, allowing her neck to fall slightly to one side and create a natural position for him to deepen his intent.

Cormoran had dreamt of this for so long; in his fantasies their kisses had been passion fuelled, hungry, delving and debauched…..but the reality was that he wanted this to be his last ever first kiss….and he wanted it to be perfect….he was prepared to be patient….for Robin he could always wait.

After several glorious, heavenly minutes spent in his arms Robin’s hand had reached up to his neck and as she threaded her fingers through his hair, finally feeling the soft tangle of his dark curls she sobbed and pressed more firmly against him.  
It was the cue he’d been unconscisouly waiting for to cradle her cheek and neck in one hand and plunder her mouth with his tongue.  
He delighted in her response and the fact that her small nails dug into his back, her hand tugging exquisitely on his scalp as he angled her neck slightly more and explored her mouth fully.

They remained fused together; breathy moans and slick, open mouthed, open eyed tortuous pleasure the only thoughts on either mind.  
When they finally pushed apart; only far enough to rest their damp foreheads together they were panting and both grinning, Robin’s lips and chin reddened by their exertion and the presence of Strike’s beard.

“Wow…..they definitely don’t show Prince Charming doing that in Disney!” Robin giggled, gasping a little as Cormoran continued his exploration of her skin by trailing his tongue along the smooth skin of her neck.

“You….said…..you didn’t…..want….Prince…..Charming,” Cormoran punctuated his statement with small, nuzzling bites across Robin’s collar bone; expertly nudging her blouse to one side with his fingertip and nose.

Robin purred happily and wriggled slightly between his thighs, “And I stand by my statement!” she replied, stretching back her neck to allow him greater access, and enjoying the throaty growl her action generated.

“Yeah….I don’t suppose Prince Charmin’ would’ve slipped you the tongue either!” he waggled his eyebrows lasciviously towards her and smirked as her hands wandered across his chest, toying slightly with the button placket at the centre.

It was as if a switch had been flicked inside Robin after all this time.  
She felt like a confident, sexy woman, one who was taking responsibility for her own happiness….which of course was exactly what Strike had instilled in her over the time he’d known her.

“Right then,” she pouted, and moved to nibble along his neck, sucking on his earlobe and earning a further sound of pleasure which she’d hitherto never heard from her work colleague, “Fancy showing me what else Prince Charming would never do?” she whispered and trailed her hand back down to his, tugging him towards the office door.

“Consider me completely at your beck and call,” he grinned, wolfishly, and they ascended the stairs to his flat with Robin in front and Strike more than happy to follow after her…..which he made his theme for the rest of the evening….and night….and morning!


End file.
